


Party Foul

by sundaise



Category: IT (Movies - Muschietti), IT - Stephen King
Genre: AU, Alternate Universe - College/University, Eddie Kaspbrak & Beverly Marsh Are Best Friends, Eddie and Beverly are strangers who drunkenly try to crash it., Heavy Alcohol Consumption, It's Stan's birthday. Richie threw him a huge house party to celebrate., M/M, Meet-Cute, Richie Tozier & Stanley Uris Are Best Friends
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-04
Updated: 2020-01-04
Packaged: 2021-02-27 14:26:32
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,766
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22118611
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sundaise/pseuds/sundaise
Summary: Crashing a stranger’s birthday party isn’t usually a part of Eddie’s weekend plans. Neither is unknowingly chatting up the cute dark haired comedian... who happens to be the roommate of said birthday boy.“So, how do you know Stan?”Eddie’s blood runs cold with shock as soon as the innocent question leaves his lips. “Oh, uh,” he shrugs nonchalantly, like it’s no big deal, “I’m dating his roommate.”
Relationships: Eddie Kaspbrak/Richie Tozier
Comments: 31
Kudos: 512





	Party Foul

**Author's Note:**

> Just a short and sweet little meet-cute. I haven't written fanfiction in over three years, so please be easy on me lol

Despite being best friends for the majority of their university schooling lives, it could never be said that Eddie and Beverly are the best decision makers when placed together.

Growing up, they would have been polar opposites. They both suffered from enduring horrible living situations because of their parents, and coming out worse at the end because of it. Beverly’s made her a wild child, desperate to do anything for some instant gratification, especially if it came at the risk of danger. Whereas Eddie’s home life made him paranoid and uptight, terrified to step out of line in fear of trouble or pain. 

But graduating high school was the catalyst in both their lives. They managed to escape their home lives, go to university, and became each other’s found family as roommates. It was only then they began to help each other break out of the routines their parents had forced them into. Eddie helped to ground her, Beverly could push him out of his shell. They were there for each other in a way that their parents never were.

A few bad decisions never hurt anybody, and that’s why they decided to go out tonight. They left their shared apartments with their heads held high, certain of a good night of drinking and clubbing ahead of them. It’s a Friday night, and the world was their oyster. 

Beverly’s only managed to drag Eddie out clubbing a handful of times now, but each time is always more enjoyable than the last. They keep buying each other drinks and then racing out onto the dance floor every single time a song comes on that she knows all the words to, which is almost all of them, but he can’t find it within himself to complain or care. 

He’s never imagined himself being the kind of person that could get drunk and dance in clubs filled with sweaty and disgusting college students, but here he is, actually having fun with it. According to the bartender, it’s just hit midnight, and that’s usually the time in which they begin to call it quits. Eddie didn’t take his phone, and Beverly lost hers somewhere along the night, so if they don’t leave now, they might end up stuck here for another few hours. He manages to pull her away from the cute brunette girl that she’s chatting up, but she barely complains so she couldn’t have been that interested.

It’s only once they step outside that they’ve realized their stupid drunken mistake.

With no way to call for an Uber or taxi, they’ll have to settle for walking back to their apartment. Luckily it’s a short walk, a half an hour at most, the only problem is the cold. The alcohol still pumping through their bodies is the only thing keeping them from shivering right now, but it won’t take long for that to wear off, so they’re forced to begin their trek immediately, chatting and shit-talking along the way to keep themselves distracted.

And they’re nearly halfway home when they come across it.

“Wow,” Bev breaths out, and they both stop dead in their tracks to stare at the house in front of them. “Somebody’s having a really bumpin’ party.”

Eddie nods, fully agreeing, but also desperate to just keep walking. It’s 12AM in early October, and winter has been setting in quickly this year. He has to shove his hands in his pockets to avoid losing the feeling in his fingers.

His ears are still ringing from the loud bar music, but the house party sounds so muted from out here on the street.

Beverly turns to him, and he can just barely make out her face in the dim streetlamps, but he recognizes the look in her eyes. And it means trouble.

“Let’s go inside!” she suggests, the enthusiasm is bursting from inside of her.

He visibly recoils at the very idea. “What!? Are you insane!?”

“A little bit!”

“We don’t even know who’s house that is.”

“That’s the fun part! We go inside, we party a bit, we warm up, and then we leave.”

“Beverly. We cannot go into a stranger’s house and pretend that we were invited. It’s rude, and dangerous, and we don’t know who these people are and-”

She cuts him off before he can start to work himself into a frenzy. “It’ll be fine! A party that big is like the safest kind of party to crash. There’s no way the host knows every single person inside. We’ll just say we were invited by someone and figure it out along the way. What’s the worst that could happen?”

“They call the cops.”

“Nobody’s going to call the cops over a couple of party crashers. The worst they could do is throw us out, and what’s the big deal about that?”

“The embarrassment?”

“Beverly Marsh does not get embarrassed.”

He rolls his eyes, but can’t come up with a response that could sway her opinion the other way. She’s right, getting kicked out is probably the only threat, and there’s no way they know anybody in there, so what’s the harm? Something keeps wiggling in the back of Eddie’s mind though, telling him that it’s a bad idea. No good ever comes out of walking into someone else’s home uninvited.

“Come on, don’t you want to live a little?” It’s like she has stars in her eyes, the way that she’s beaming up at him.

He feels the reluctance slowly dissipating in him as he lets out a moan of despair. They’ve been through this enough times to know exactly how it’s going to end, so he knows he’s better off just giving in now before the frostbite sets in. Because otherwise they’ll just be arguing the issue back and forth out here for hours before they inevitably end up entering the house.

“Fine!” he gives in, “You win. But we’re only going in long enough to warm up.”

“Yes!” she grabs his hand and they both run up short path to the front door.

* * *

Much to Eddie’s surprise, they’re not met with any resistance once their inside. There’s a lot of people, more than he was expecting, and he hasn’t quite decided yet on if that’s a good thing or a bad thing. The music is so loud that not even the sound of Beverly drunkenly slamming the door closed behind them is enough to make anybody look up.

He’s frozen in place, unsure of what they’re supposed to do. There’s no weirder feeling in the world than entering a house, knowing nobody inside, and being expected to act normal. But Beverly grabs his hand again and gives him a grin that he’s sure everybody in the room was affected by, then drags him further into the crowd of partygoers.

It’s a typical college house party. Girls wearing crop tops and yoga pants meant to show off their asses. Muscle dude-bros wearing tank tops that clearly are a part of some kind of school sport team that Eddie doesn’t care enough about. And more red solo cups than he could even begin to count.

They find a table filled with booze and stack of cups, and Beverly is not shy about pouring two cups for them. There’s a banner hanging above, with a crudely written “Happy Birthday Stan”, in what looks to be a purple sharpie.

He shoots her a look with widened eyes, meant to convey ‘We should not be stealing their birthday party booze.’

But she grins and it’s even more maniacal than before, “It’s a party!” She shrugs, clearly enjoying the rush of breaking into somebody’s house, “Enjoy it! They wouldn’t leave out beer if they didn’t want you to drink it!” 

He takes the red solo cup from her hesitantly. “Happy birthday, Stan!” she smirks, and then downs the cup in one go. Beverly’s confidence always manages to wear him down eventually, and it isn’t long before he does the exact same with his own drink.

She throws her head back with laughter, “I love corrupting you! Let’s do more!”

And so, they do. They drink a lot of stolen booze. The more they drink, the less guilty Eddie starts to feel about it. They dance with the other party-goers and even get sucked into conversations with them. Nobody asks them who they are, and it feeds into his confidence. They just ask generic questions about their courses and major, and then questions about stuff like if they’re having fun at the party. And it’s only when they’re three drinks in that Eddie starts to realize that they can fucking do this! You absolutely can just sneak into somebody’s house party with no repercussions and absolutely nobody will care. He feels like he’s on top of the world.

This is the exact reason he wanted to move away from the dorms and live with Bev, he needed somebody to kick him in the ass and make him live a little. He never would have did this if he were still living on campus, he wouldn’t have even left the safety of his bedroom on a Friday night if it meant leaving his precious textbooks.

Eventually, Beverly leaves him to find a bathroom, which seems like a daunting task to leave her alone for, but it sounds more like an excuse than anything. Eddie’s seen her eyeing up a cute red headed boy from across the room

Beverly leans in close to him, “I’m gonna go find a bathroom.”

“You’re going to leave me here alone?”

“You’ll be fine! Just keep doing what we’ve been doing. Talk to people, dance, drink, etcetera, etcetera!” she throws her arms up with flair before backing away from him and disappearing down a hallway.

Usually being left on his own in a situation like this would make him nervous or uncomfortable. Panicking as if everybody at the party would turn and stare at him, pointing their fingers, and shouting ‘You don’t belong here!’ But, they don’t, and miraculously, he doesn’t even think about that possibility as soon as he loses sight of her.

It must be the alcohol.

At the reminder, he goes to the free beer table (as Beverly has deemed it) to pour himself yet another cupful.

His arm brushes against another, and he looks up to see another boy also getting himself a drink.

The boy raises his eyebrows slightly in acknowledgement and then offers an easy smile. “Hey!”

“Uh, hi, sorry, am I in your way?”

“Nah, you’re good. Plenty of red solo cups and booze to go around.” He shrugs and pulls the cup toward his face, taking a swig much larger than one should considering the time of night.

“Yeah, I’ve definitely had my fair share tonight.”

“Oh?” he smirks bemused, “You drunk?”

“Isn’t everyone?”

“Fair. I don’t think anybody survives Stan’s birthday parties without getting a little over their head when it comes to the alcohol consumption. It’s like the only time of year we can actually get him to drink and live a little.” He turns away slightly, surveying the crowd of people as he speaks. There’s a tenderness to his tone, like he really loves his friends and their parties for reasons much deeper than alcohol-induced stupors.

Eddie doesn’t know how to respond to that, he can’t let on how little he actually knows about this Stan guy. Hopefully there hasn’t been a moment that he’s spoken to the guy face to face tonight. It would be embarrassing to have not said happy birthday to him at least once.

“Uh, I’m Eddie,” he says, and before he can think better of it, holds out his hand to shake.

He immediately feels like an idiot for it. This is a college party, not a business conference. Young adults do not shake each others hands. He’s about three seconds away from pathetically attempting to casually transition from formal handshake to a I-totally-intended-this-the-whole-time “shaka bra”, but thankfully the guy takes his hand and gives it a firm shake. The grin on his face reads that he definitely knows the internal struggle Eddie just put himself through.

Thankfully, he doesn’t comment on it.

“Like spaghetti?”

It catches him off-guard so much, that Eddie thinks the must have misheard the guy. Does too much alcohol cause auditory hallucinations? “I’m sorry, what?”

“Ya’know,” the guy shrugs, like it’s obvious, “Like Eddie spaghetti. It rhymes.”

Eddie just stares at him blankly for a few moments, until a smile finally quirks on the guys lips again. “Nobody has ever said that to me before. How does your brain work?”

The guy bursts out into laughter, literally closing his eyes and leaning his head back. It fills Eddie with the kind of warmth that scares him, but he can’t help but laugh along. The guy has a contagious laughter, okay? But, he also has these little crinkles around the edges of his eyes when he smiles, and it just makes Eddie want to make him smile more.

“My brain, Eddie…” he says dramatically, “It’s unparalleled.”

“Yeah, it’s something alright.”

He takes another swig of his drink, not knowing how to continue. Maybe he should come to more parties, it could help him be better at this. It doesn’t help that this guy is cute. Cuter than he should be. He’s got this messy curly hair that’s clearly never seen a comb in a good five years, and these thick-rimmed bottle lensed glasses that look like they’re straight out of a cheesy 80′s movie. It’s the utter pinnacle of chaotic appearance. But there’s still something intriguing about him. Eddie still blames the alcohol.

“So, Eds, what’s your damage?”

“What?”

“Your major,” he clarifies, shifting his weight from one leg to the other.

“Oh. Medicine. I want to become a doctor. And, don’t call me Eds, I hate nicknames.”

“Isn’t Eddie just a nickname for Edward?”

“Yeah, but that’s at least more than one syllable.”

The guy just shrugs, “People call me Dick all the time.”

Eddie deadpans, “Are you sure that’s a nickname and not just an insult?”

It’s not a funny joke, in fact, it’s probably the most low hanging fruit joke that he could have gone for. Especially considering he was practically handed the joke. But, the guy still laughs. Which makes it apparent that this guy is either a lot drunker than Eddie had originally thought… or this guy is kind of super into him.

He doesn’t know what to make of that yet. So instead, he puts it out of his mind. He scans the crowd of people and sees that Beverly is back from her bathroom excursion and mingling with people. Well, one people in particular. A guy that looks to be their age, with short red hair and just a little on the chubbier side. He’s cute, and his face is beet red, clearly very entranced with the girl flirting with him.

“Who you lookin’ at?”

“Just my friend Beverly. She’s over there flirting, it’s kind of cute.”

He follows Eddie’s gaze and locks eyes on them, “Oh, is that her with Ben?”

Ben. Noted.

“Yeah. I don’t think she’s ever met him before though?”

“Well, he seems super into her.”

“Hard not to be. She definitely has a presence about her.”

“And Ben’s a hopeless romantic. I’m sure tomorrow I’ll hear all about how he’s experienced love at first sight or something,” he scoffs with amusement as he takes another swig of his drink.

Ben is a hopeless romantic. Eddie is learning so much. He’ll definitely store it in his memory bank, at least to let Beverly know later. The body language she’s putting forth is a very clear indicator that she’s just as into Ben as he is into her.

“So,” the guy continues, cutting off his thought process. “How do you know Stan?”

Eddie’s blood runs cold with shock as soon as the innocent question leaves his lips. Fuck, fuck fuck, he almost curses out loud just over the fact that he got caught so off guard. He allows the moment of panic, before forcing it deep down into his brain to let it be forgotten. He’s got this. He’s cool, calm, and collected. Confidence is key. It’s just as Beverly said. Act like you’re supposed to be here, and nobody will suspect anything.

“Oh, uh,” Eddie shrugs nonchalantly, like it’s no big deal, “I’m dating his roommate.”

The lie comes to him easily, and it feels like a safe bet. Nobody knows their friend’s roommates that well. Eddie’s former roommate could have been a serial killer during all of first year, and he’d have had no idea because he was too focused on his studying to care.

The guys eyebrows raise in surprise, “Oh? You mean Richie?”

A name! Perfect!

Eddie shoots him a sole finger gun, “That’s the one.”

“Hm,” the guy hums, “I didn’t know Richie was dating somebody.”

“Oh yeah,” Eddie nods, trying to seem casual, and pours himself a new drink. “It’s relatively new.”

The guy nods, seemingly impressed and convinced, and then effectively chugs the rest of his own drink. But he doesn’t ask anymore questions about Stan or Richie, so Eddie chalks it up at a win, and can’t wait to tell Beverly about it later. He’s really slipping into this whole ‘party crasher’ role.

“Richie!” an excited voice bursts into their conversation from Eddie’s left.

He turns to see two people walking towards them, and feels all colour drain from his face.

“Patty! Stan, the birthday boy!” the guy (Richie!?) greets them both enthusiastically. He holds out his arms just in time to catch the blonde woman in a tight bear hug.

They speak for a moment, something about Patty’s flight having just arrived an hour prior, she must have been away on a trip somewhere, it all falls deaf on Eddie’s ears.

The guy he’s been talking to for the past fifteen minutes _is_ Stan’s roommate, Richie.

If there was ever a moment in his life in which Eddie wished he could just sink to the floor and let it swallow him whole… this is it.

The three are still talking animatedly amongst one another, and it seems to be a good opportunity to slip away unnoticed. But, his hopes are immediately crashed by an arm fastening around his neck.

“I’m so sorry, this is so rude of me,” Richie says, scoffing at himself over dramatically. “This is my boyfriend. Eddie.”

Wait. What.

“Hi!” Patty reaches out to shake his hand, “I’m Patty. Stan’s girlfriend.”

“And I’m Stan,” he gestures to the ridiculous party hat atop his head, “Obviously.”

Stan keeps looking back and forth between Richie and Eddie with a quirked eyebrow. But, Patty pipes up before he can voice his own opinions, “I didn’t know you were seeing anybody, Richie.”

Richie shrugs nonchalantly, and the arm around Eddie’s neck tightens. An invisible action to their small audience, but the shit eating grin on his face is a tell-all story. “It’s relatively new.”

The direct quote is what finally snaps Eddie out of his shocked trance. The two eventually part ways to mingle with more party guests, Stan is the man of the hour after all. And once they’re gone, Richie removes his arm from around Eddie’s neck so they can face each other again.

There’s a solid minute of silence between them. Eddie completely expressionless, and Richie trying his hardest (and failing) not to smile.

“Did I forget to mention that I’m Stan’s roommate?”

“Yeah,” Eddie glares at him, but it only seems to egg Richie on, “You definitely left that out. I’m gonna go find Bev-”

He begins to walk away, but Richie grabs his arm to stop him. “No, wait, please, this is so funny. You can’t just leave me here now with only half of a story to tell! Who are you? Do you actually go to our school? Is your name even Eddie?”

Eddie’s eyes widen at the first sentence, and he practically leaps forward to point a threatening finger at the guy. “You are not telling anybody about this!”

“You are absolutely fucked in the head if you think I’m going to keep this to myself, it’s hilarious. You’re hilarious.”

“No.”

“Come on. You owe it to me.”

“Owe it to you?”

“I just spent the last ten minutes of our conversation thinking you were one of Stan’s friends, and I spent the entire time cursing him in my head for not introducing us sooner.”

“Wha- Why?”

“Because you’re a cute short little firecracker and that’s exactly my type. And Stan knows that. This whole time I’ve been quietly resenting him for keeping quiet about you. Your lie would have led to the eventual downfall of his and I’s friendship, and it would have been all your fault.”

Eddie’s cheeks burn at the casual admittance to being Richie’s “type.” He’s never been somebody’s type before, it feels foreign and unfamiliar. At best he’s been convenient. He was convenient to Adrian Mellon and Don Hagarty, because they were the only other gay kids in their small homophobic town. That is, until they inevitably found each other and ran off happily into the Derry-free sunset.

Eddie doesn’t even know if he has a type. He just knows that he likes who he likes. College was supposed to be his time to explore that kind of stuff, and he’s never even dipped his toes into that kind of water yet.

He gives Richie an up and down again. It’s entirely unsubtle, and he ignores the hint of a smirk that plays in the corner of the boy’s mouth when he notices.

He supposes Richie could be his type. Eddie’s always liked curly hair. And glasses. It feels weird to say that the Hawaiian shirt is doing it for him, but he doesn’t mind it as much as he thought he would. The dirty sneakers and ripped jeans are kinda nice though, it gives Richie a grunge kind of vibe, one that Eddie’s sure there’s a word for and he’s just not hip enough to know what it is.

All he knows is that if he leaves right now, he won’t get to see Richie’s shit-eating grin anymore, and that’s definitely a fate he’d like to avoid right now.

And Beverly might actually kill him if he goes over there and breaks up her conversation with Ben “heart eyes” Hanscom. So fuck it. What does Eddie have to lose at this point.

“Ugh,” he gives in with an overly defeated sigh, “Fine. My name really is Eddie, and I really do go to your school.”

“Pre-med?”

“Yes. I did not lie about being smarter than you.”

Richie snorts into his cup, but doesn’t comment on the dig any further, “so, what’s the story?”

Eddie sighs, knowing that the best route he could really take at this point is honesty. “Bev and I don’t know anybody here. We just happened to walk by, and she thought it was a good idea, and she talked me into it, and I feel like a fucking idiot for agreeing now.”

“So you just _walked_ into a stranger’s house?”

“Yeah.”

“How long have you been here?”

“Like an hour?”

“And nobody’s asked you who the fuck you were yet?!”

“You didn’t! And you live here!”

“I thought you were one of Stan’s friends! I came up here assuming you had a faint idea of who _I_ was.”

“Rather presumptuous of you.”

“You’re in _my_ house! At a birthday party that _I_ threw for the other person that lives _in this house_.”

Eddie must give an incredibly unimpressed look, “I don’t appreciate the tone.” Richie just scoffs in response, and is about to open his mouth to speak when Eddie cuts him off. “But,” he starts, “I will admit to breaking into your house without permission. It’s extremely fucked up, and I’m sorry. But, in my defense... it wasn’t difficult. We walked in and we’ve been here for an hour undetected, you need to get a better security system.”

“Well, it’s a party. We don’t exactly have our doors locked.”

“I’ve got nothing then.” Eddie raises his hands in defeat, trying his hardest to push the embarrassment as far down as he can. If he were a little more sober, this interaction would have ended a lot differently, luckily the alcohol and Richie’s charmed smile are keeping him rooted in place.

In fact, Richie looks entirely too warm for somebody that should probably be pissed with him. “It’s fine, you know that, right? Parties _are_ ‘the more the merrier’ and all that jazz.”

“Good to know. Next time I’m running short on groceries, I’ll just pop in and stock up from your fridge.”

“You’ve already drank your weight in free alcohol. Which, admittedly isn’t saying much, you weigh- what? Ninety pounds?”

“I am normal sized, thank you very much. It’s not my fault you look like the kid that got stretched out in Willy Wonka’s chocolate factory.”

“You did not just compare me to Mike Teevee.”

“I think I did.”

“Do you talk to your patients this way too?”

“I’m not a doctor.”

“Yet.”

“Yes. That’s what the _pre_ in pre-med means.”

“Well, we can’t all be geniuses.”

“What’s your major then?”

“Communications. But, it’s mostly for my folks. They just wanted me to finish my schooling, and Stan and I are childhood friends, and he was coming to this school, so I figured, why not,” he adds a shrug for further affect. Eddie can’t relate. If there’s one thing his mother _didn’t_ want it was for him to go to school. “But, I have this gig at a bar downtown, and I like doing that a lot more.”

“Let me guess, bartending?”

“Har har. I do stand-up for an hour or so, it’s really starting to take off. It started as an open mic night thing that they do every Saturday, just a way for me to test my own material and grow, ya’know. But I’d go up so much that they eventually gave me my own time slot.”

“So you annoyed them into hiring you?”

“Yup,” Richie beams, and then gestures to the space between them, “And I can’t wait to write this into my next act.”

Eddie’s smile drops and he lets out an undignified squawk, “You are not turning me into a _bit_.”

“Let me guess, Eddie Spaghetti,” he reaches forward to pinch Eddie’s cheeks, but gets his hands slapped away for his efforts, “You’re allergic to fun.”

“I just broke into a party, I am the epitome of fun.”

Richie seems to consider him for a moment. “How about you give me your number, and next time you want to do something fun, you call me and I’ll tag along?”

It catches Eddie so off guard that he stands there for a moment, convinced that Richie must be fucking with him again. But instead of laughing in his face, like is expected, he gives another easy smirk, and then holds his phone out.

It’s feels like a pathetic amount of time passes before he registers what exactly Richie is asking of him. But Eddie wordlessly takes the phone, and quickly types in his information as a new contact. He's certain he'll wake up tomorrow with a horrible hangover and a text informing him _'Save this number to your phone, spaghetti-man! It's your boyfriend from last night's party!'_

When he slips the phone back into Richie's hand, Eddie realizes that he hasn’t said anything yet. Why hasn’t he said anything. It’s like there’s an added expectation placed on him now to seem impressive to the guy. So he quirks an eyebrow, desperate to act as nonchalant as possible, and slip straight back into razzing him. As though Richie asking for his number didn't throw him off so much that he was stunned into silence.

“Is this your way of getting _me_ to ask _you_ on a date?”

“Definitely not,” the grin on his face says otherwise, "I’m just serving as an impartial judge. Does Eddie...”

“Kaspbrak.”

“Does Eddie Kaspbrak know how to have fun?”

“What makes you so qualified to decide?”

“Oh, Eddie. You are looking at the king of fun.”

“Well, okay. But only if I get invited to one of your shows sometime. I need to make sure you’re actually funny.”

Richie grins at him, a big toothy smile that almost takes up his entire face. “Are you sure you need an invite? You won’t just break in?”

Eddie smiles, “No promises.”

**Author's Note:**

> I started writing this story, and then part-way through it started to sound like two separate stories. So, if you liked this, let me know, and then maybe keep on the lookout for another cheesy meet-cute story about Richie/Eddie at a party lmao.


End file.
